Fairy Tales
by Nagy Bari
Summary: Hungary and Poland reads a bunch of modern(?) fairy tales. (Several rough translation of bed time story will appear, mostly form Hungary, but later on, from other countries as well.)
1. Why should it be happy?

Fairy Tales

She was a tomboy, never refused it, but she always listened to good and interesting stories, whenever she could, regardless where they were, in the wild forest or a warm hut. She loved listening to the elders as they told their stories on their rusty, jet somehow cheerful voice. They could fly her to the past, to the enchanted forest, into a castle, or a war, just by some well chosen word, turn her into a warrior, a princess, or the third son of any poor old couple. She loved it, she loved them, and she felt as she could just sit there and listen to them for the end of time.  
But History had something else for them. So as the fire went out and darkness overtook everything they went to sleep, and waited a day ore more, until the elders continued their tales.

When she was introduced to the royal house, as the wife of Roderich she felt herself lost. No, that's not really correct. She felt ' _himself_ ' lost forever. And she was right. But there was a tiny ray of light, a helping hand so she wouldn't be so lost. Even if they were royals, they still hade some tale to tell, and she was more than glad for them. Even if they were flat, and unkind for her taste, so much elegance and rigidness… But they were tales at least. And she felt as if they would let her know one more little secret about her husband. Something that cannot be expressed in other ways.

As time past, she found more and more tales from all around the world. She was curious. Were 3-7-14-21 headed dragons only in her tales, or they were well known just forgotten? Why fairies never appeared as evil characters in other stories? Why witches have to be old and ugly? She had hundreds of questions, and slowly started to write down her own fairly tales.

She admired Andersen and really enjoyed whenever she heard on of the Grimm Brothers stories. She thought she would cry from laughing whenever Feliciano told her one Italian fairy tale, their style was adorable and full with energy. Later, she read some from the far east, and suddenly remembered those strange tales, Sadik told her centuries ago. Slowly but surely she formed her own style.

It was a cold and lovely autumn afternoon and she sat outside a café shop, reading a book, drinking her warm coffee. She was waiting for Feliks, and don't want to waste the precious time she decided to read over one of her stories. They were bittersweet just like Andersen, cheerful as the Italians and unique as herself. It was one of her best, so far: Lázár Ervin. His tales were exactly what she loved and asked for. He was a true magician, as his daughter said. She was proud of him. Ervin wrote for children, but told more to the parents. And he wrote his tales in those dark times, when even religion was a crime against the government. She was glad for him, just as for the others. But He was special. He could speak like no one else, he could use her words, Her language as no one, and she thought that this time she will show something beautiful to the world.

* * *

\- Lizzy! How you doing, girl?

\- Feliks, I'm great, and you?

\- Awful Darling, awful! This weather wears me out like an ugly dress from the past. Did I see right? You were reading something…

\- Oh yes. I wanted to show you, I'm curious what do you think.

She handled over the book, and waited a little. Her friend was one of those odd countries who learned her language… At least tried it.

\- So? What do you think?

\- Hmmm… I'm not sure. It's nice and all, but. Well it would be hard to translate it to the others. And some parts would never be the same… This is a though story, never the last.

\- Oh… I see.

Feliks saw how sadness took over his friend's soul and mind, and tried to cheer her up, but failed…

\- Look on the bright side! They can never read it, but neither criticize it!

\- . . . thanks…?

\- I mean, they wouldn't understand anyway! It's just not their style. Who would want to tell a bedtime story to their kids in which the Witch is the good one, but gets her punishment anyway? That's too dark for a little kid…

\- . . .

\- Oh My Lizzy, don't take me serious! It's magnificent, but not for kids. You have to agree with that at least.

\- No. It's telling the truth, this story don't want to keep children in unreal dreams.

\- You want to break their free imagination and hope of the beautiful happy endings.

\- They see it everywhere! Even if they don't want to! TV and all the movies are full with that pink and white happy-endings!

\- And it's all right. It's as it always was. This story is frightening. And depressive.

\- Because Andersen is not. The old fairy tales are the same as what Disney creates from them. You cannot tell me that I'm wrong, and you know it.

\- You may have point in that, but this is… Listen carefully Lizzy. I know you from a very long time, and I saw you changing. You are more than inclinable to depression, and stories like these won't help you.

\- You know nothing about how it helps me!

\- Oh yeah? Then would you please tell me what could a single little song do with you? You tried to kill yourself! And not just once! Lizzy, I'm your Friend!

She froze, and Feliks huffed.

\- See?

\- . . . no.

\- You were mad at me. Your best friend! How could you?

\- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. It's just… - she looked at him as if the blonde was her last hope, she was pleading for understanding. He felt like she wanted to catch him with her eyes, but then a sad shadow covered her, and she gave up.- Never mind.

She closed the book, and put it back to her bag, forming a gloomy smile, as if she was saying goodbye, then took a deep breath. And a next one.

She didn't looked at him. He was too confused to do anything, afraid he would broke her feeling even more.

After one long and heavy silenced minute she snapped up her head smiling as if nothing had happened.

\- So… How about a shopping, since we are here right next to the mall?

* * *

A.N: Lázár Ervin was a great writer, lived from 1936 to 2006. He wrote about 19 books full with child stories, won a bunch of awards and lived a life almost as magical as his tales. Personally He is on of my favorite writer in Hungarian literature, and thinking about writing a Hetalia adaptation for one of his bittersweet tales, just to show you something :) I hope now you are interested a little, and that I won't translate it too horribly... :) And I wrote His name purposely backwards for you. I'm not sure why, I just don't like to change the order in our names so it fits the english rules... I just... don't. Sorry about any wrong spelling or grammatical mistake too :)


	2. The little girl who loved everyone

Lázár Ervin - The little girl, who loved everyone

-This one sound pretty. - pointed Felix to the title of a story in the book. Elisabeth followed his finger and a sad smile appeared in her eyes.  
\- You think so?

\- I like people ho loves everyone. They are kind and should be an example for everyone.

\- Do you want to hear it?

\- Please read it to me. - smiled the Polish boy happily to his friend. The girl returned the smile and started the story.

 _Everyone get lost once. That's what happened with the little Brunella too. She got lost. She stepped out of her house in the morning, behind the garden she stopped a little to watch herself in the brook, combing her hair.  
"I've got nice black hair." she said to the brook, and she smiled because she got nice black hair.  
"It is nice indeed." said the brook._

 _"And my eyes are beautiful as well." continued Brunella.  
No denial, her eyes were beautiful as well. The brook nodded. Not with the same enthusiasm, but it nodded because Brunella was a really nice little girl and she could smile so kindly that no one could be angry with her. The brook would loved it, of Brunella had said something like "You're so beautiful and crystal clear, brook!" or "You're making music so beautifully, nobody makes music like you!" But Brunella hadn't said things like this. It hadn't even crossed her mind. She said:  
"If I close my eyes, I cannot see you."_

The story then continued. Brunella went to the forest and met 3 dangerous monsters: the Tiger, the Bear, and the Terrible Threewheeled Pakuk bird. Every monster treated the little girl friendly after they found out that she loves them just because everyone loves her. They showed her their secret places, gave her food and played with her, and gave her memories so she can remember them.  
When she leaved from the Pakuk bird, it was almost evening and Brunella met the hunter near the forest. The man almost shot her down, and was really surprised that she wasn't even afraid of him, nor his gun. She told him the same, that she loves everyone and everyone loves her in return. Even the three monster. The hunter didn't believe her, but she shoved their gifts and told everything about them to prove they exist and they love her. Then they parted and the hunter went to the forest, Brunella headed to the brook.

 _"Hello, brook" she said "You see, I didn't get hurt. I love everyone and everyone loves me too"  
Then there was a shot._

 _"The Tiger" said the brook.  
Brunella stood their with her legs rooted to the ground. She couldn't say a world. There was a second shot.  
"The Bear" said the brook.  
" Oh, no, I don't want it!" shouted the little girl, but then the breeze brought the third shot.  
" The Terrible Threewheeled Pakuk bird" said the brook.  
The little girl fell to her knees, cried grievously, her tears falling to the brook. The water became troubled from her tears.  
"From now on you cannot see yourself in me" said the brook sadly "maybe only if you close your eyes."_

\- The end.

Elisabeth put the book down and closed her eyes. Felix was sobbing next to her.

\- This is so sad. How could you write this to little kids?!

\- They have to learn, they cannot trust anybody.

\- But why?! This is more than depressing!

\- It's the truth about life. Everyone loved her, but that didn't mean they loved the others as well.

\- I feel so sorry for the little girl. It's horrible. I don't want to cry because of a bedtime tale! You're so mean!

\- You were the one who chose this. Bear the consequences.

\- Lizzy I feel so sorry for you! We should go out. You need to cheer up.

\- Felix, I think it's you who need a happy hour and a Disney movie. I'm perfectly fine.  
\- But I need you to come with me! We're gonna watch Aristocats and Mulan! I know these are your favorites as well, you cannot hide them.  
\- Alright. Let's go make some popcorn. 

* * *

A.N.:  
The story in italic is the rough translation of the original Hungarian tale written by Lázár Ervin. I should change the order in his name but still I wouldn't like it. Sorry for that I have some really strange habit. So the story isn't full, I was a little tired to translate the whole, but if you insist I can try. This one is one of my favorites from the writer, the other one is titled: The smallest witch. That's sad and cute too, but much more longer. So I'm not sure if I will ever write about it.  
So half of the story isn't mine and the characters neither. Hope you liked it, I will search for more tale, maybe from other countries as well.  
Oh and about the Terrific Threewheeled Pakuk bird. It's an original nonsense character of Lázár Ervin so don't feel bad about it if you don't know what it is :)


	3. The holey sock

Lázár Ervin - The holey sock

Once there was a holey sock. In its early age it wasn't just any sock, because it was made from a refined fabric, and cavalier blue patterns embellished it. But now it has aged. So as I said, there was a hole on it. It was a bloated, jagged edged. They lived in a ramshackle wardrobe most tumble-down drawer's very bottom.  
\- I'm still prettier than you - said the hole to the stock.  
\- What - astonished the stock - that you are prettier?! Why would you be prettier?  
\- Because they can see through me - answered the hole.  
\- Oh please - instructed the stock - I'm pretty because I'm not transparent, and look how beautiful my blue patterns are.  
\- And you are dirty - continued the hole, not caring about the teaching - I on the other hand never get dirty.  
The stock thought about it for a moment.  
\- You see! - the hole said loudly - You've admitted too. It's not even fair that I'm this small and you're that big.  
The hole got itself, and grew. Now there was hardly anything from the sock. The hole was bigger than the remaining sock.  
\- You completely ruin me! - weep the sock.  
\- You should be happy you can live with such a beautiful hole - said the hole high-handed and grew even bigger.  
\- Oh, you are killing me! - shouted the sock, and the hole grew so huge that nothing remained from the sock. But as the sock disappeared, disappeared the hole as well. Because if there's no sock, there's no hole either.  
So now the non existing hole can cry after the non existing sock.

Elisabeth put down the book and looked at her best friend. Felix was clearly confused.  
\- This is a really strange one. It's a sad story but I don't feel so sorry for them as I did the last time.  
\- That's alright. - smiled the brunette.  
\- Is it? - Felix was still confused. - Anyway it was much better than the other. It wasn't that dark. But could you please tell me a really nice and happy one? I'm sure you have one, you just don't want to admit. - he was clearly mocking her.  
\- I wouldn't be so sure, but you know... I will search one just for you.  
\- Love you, baby girl! - Felix hug his best friend with a huge smile on his face.  
\- Love you too, pony star! - Elisabeth laughed. - Are you hungry?  
\- I thought that was you...  
\- Watch your tongue, it would be really bad if you had fallen down from the stairs. - an evil grin was on her face.  
\- Of course it would be! Who would listen to your fairy tails the whole day then? - but the guy was just laughing.

* * *

A.N:  
So another one of Lázár Ervin's tales. It's not that dark, but not that happy either. I will search for a happier, that's a promise. Sorry for the strange word using, I tried to translate it as I could, it won't be perfect. Hope you liked it, I chose this one because it was really short, and I'm too lazy.  
And my next idea would include other writers tales as well, but it will be only in December or even later. If you fell like you have anything to say about this, feel free to write a review. I would be really happy :)


	4. The Rags - H C Andersen

\- Hey Lizzy guess what have I found! - Felix stormed into the room with a huge smile on his face.

\- Hey. Based on your face something hilarious, and based on the book you tried to hide behind your back I have no idea. - the brunette looked at him with real confusion.

\- First, I had no idea you have Andersen in your library, second that he's this funny! It's like a complete parody! I love it!

\- And third, I have still no idea what are you talking about exactly. Sooo, would you pretty please tell me? - she smiled and giggled. Her friend was too cheerful to be serious right next to him. And she loved him that way.

 _Outside the factory heap of rags in bundles towered. The rags were from all over the world: every piece had its own story, and spoke its own language, but of course no one could hear all of them in the same time. There were homemade rags and foreigns too. There laid a Danish rag right next to a Norwegian: this Danish in every inch, that Norwegian from the roots of its heart, and this was the amusing in both; that's how every Danish and Norwegian would think.  
They recognized the other's language, however according to the Norwegian the two language is so far from each other as the French and the Hebrew.  
\- For us, the habitant of the grim peaks, the language is manly as well, robustious , and the Danish is no different than sweet child's babble. _

_That's how the rag's conversed, even though rags are rags in every country, they worth only something in a ragbag.  
\- I'm a Norwegian! - exclaimed proudly the Norwegian rag. - And with this, I think, I've said enough. My muscles are tough like the cliff-threads in the Ancient- Norway, in that country which has constitution, just like the independent America! My every muscle stretch if I remember I'm a Norwegian, and I can shout out my thoughts to the world in sonorous granit-words!  
\- And we have literature! - the Danish rag didn't let itself either. - Do you even know what tree it is growing on?  
\- Do I know it? - spatted the Norwegian resentfully - My honorable friend from the lowland, I would love to take you up the cliff peaks, where the northern lines are the light. When the Norwegian sun melts the ice, Danish merchants are sailing up to us: they sell useful products, cheese and butter, and as a bonus they offer the Danish literature! Only we don't need it. It"s easy to give up on the poor beer there, where the icy water gurgles in the headspring, and we have such wells which weren't drilled men-made, whose fame the papers didn't brought to the world, the talking of the friends and writers journeys to abroad! I'm talking freely, as my heart wants to speak: it's better if the Danish gets used to the straight speech, they can even learn it from me, from the proud, rocky homeland which is the cradle of harvest!  
\- A good for something Danish rag wouldn't speak like this! - said scornfully the Danish. - We're different. I'm very much aware of myself, and I know it as well, every Danish rags resembles me: we are kindhearted, and modest, because we don't really trust ourselves. With this of course we cannot really achieve anything, but I like this attribute, it's so appealing! Apart this I assure you, I'm aware of my virtues, but I don't talk about them, no one can scold me that I'm bragging. I'm soft, and flexible, I take everything on my stride, I'm not envious of anyone, I speak only the good sides of my friends, even if there's more bad one could tell about them as good, but no more! I'm taking the things from their serene side, because I want to.  
\- Don't talk to me anymore on that milky, squeamish, low-landed tongue because I'm sick of it! - cracked the Norwegian rag, and with the help of the wind released from its bundle and flied to another.  
Odd-come-shortly both were turned into paper. By mere accident, to the paper made from the Norwegian rag a Norwegian young man wrote a love letter in which he vowed loyalty to a Danish girl, and the Danish rag became the manuscript paper of a Danish poet: he wrote an ode on it, which glorified the Norwegians' strength and greatness.  
Even rags can make it if they get out from the cloth bag: they can turn into truth and beauty and with good agreement they can be helpful for humanity.  
Up to this point the story is quite facetious, right? And the main point is no one was offended, at most the rags._

Elisabeth wiped her eyes from laughter as Felix closed the book, looking at his friend grinning.  
\- Oh my… I completely forgot this story! But it was quite a long time when I opened old Andersen as well... This is amazing! How could I forget? We should read it on a World Meeting, it would be hilarious! Just imagine how would Lukas and Bertram take it? - she was still giggling, imagining the two nordic male staring at each other in disbelief and annoyment. - It would be priceless!  
\- Yeah, totally! I never thought dear old Andersen was this humorous! Plus, the two guy we know are like completely switched places! Bertram is not that melancholic, and can you imagine Lukas as he speaks about how manly he is? Like breaking a table to prove himself? - Felix rolled as he laughed next to the Hungarian woman. - Buuuut, you still haven't find me a cheerful story from that guy we read for the half day. Sooo?  
\- Okay, okay, I almost found the perfect one for you, but this joke was too good to let it die this soon, so why don't we call and tell them? - she grinned from ear to ear.  
\- Bring the phone, babe, we have a story to tell! 

* * *

A. N.: Thank you for reading it, the little story is from the well known H.C. Andersen himself, but I couldn't find the English translation of it so I tried it myself, sorry for any grammatical mistake, I tried my best, and I used a Hungarian book of Andersen so it's probably not the same as the original in Danish. Sorry for that as well.  
Hope you liked it, I will search for a normal story from Hungary as well, and if you have any idea whose fairy tales could be mentioned here be my guest and send my your idea :) I just love fairy tales and bedtime stories. And yes, I'm a grown up adult... legally. Thanks for reading again, and have a nice day or night :)


	5. Oneminutes by Örkény

\- Hey Lizzy what's this? They seem pretty short. - Felix hold up a book called One-minutes and Elisabeth couldn't decide how to tell him.  
-Well... Those are really short drabbles from Örkény István, and his style is quite... grotesque. Dark humor at its top. - she grinned at the blonde.  
\- It cannot be that dark. Read me some!  
\- I'm pretty sure you can read those yourself. - she smiled.  
\- But that's boring. So? Won't you do it for your best friend?  
\- You sure you're okay with this much darkness?  
\- You know me better than this.  
\- Okay. We should start with the indention.

 _How to use it  
The supplied short stories despite their shortness are full quality writings. Their advantage that one can cut back on time; since they don't need long weekly, monthly attention. While the egg boils, while the dialed number (if it's occupied) answers, read one One-moment Short story._

 _Bad feeling, distracted nerves aren't blockage. We can read them while sit and stand, in wind and rain or while taking an overcrowded bus. Most of them can be enjoyed while walking!_

 _It's important to pay attention to the titles. The author strived to shortness, he didn't give meaningless labels. Before we get on a tram we check what signal is it. For these short stories their titles are just as significant._

 _This neither means it's enough to just read through the subtitles. First the title, then the text: that's the only right usage._

 _Attention!_

 _When one cannot understand something, read again the writing in question. If one still cannot understand, then the problem is in the short story._

 _There aren't blunt people, just bad One-minutes!_

Elisabeth looked up from the book just to see her friend nod.  
\- Pretty clear I think...  
\- Don't forget the last part. - she shot him a meaningful grin.  
\- All right, all right, now show me how dark can it be.  
\- As you wish. _  
_  
_About my well-being_

 _\- Good afternoon.  
\- Good afternoon.  
\- How do you do?  
\- Thank you, I'm fine.  
\- And how is your health?  
\- I have no reason to complain.  
\- But why are you dragging that rope behind you?  
\- Rope? - I ask looking back - Those are my in bowels._

\- So? - she looked up to see her friend grabbing his head and growling in frustration, but at the same time laugh.  
\- Okay you got me, it IS grotesque, but not that dark as I imagined. Next! - he grinned to her.  
\- If you say so. - she flipped through the book, to find a new one.

 _The actor's death_

 _This morning in one of the Üllői street's off-street unconsciously collapsed Zoltán Zetelaki the popular actor._

 _The passerby took him to the nearest clinic, but they tried the newest acquis with no success- even with iron lung - to bring him back to life. The eminent actor, after a long agony, at half past six in the evening passed away; his corpse was transmitted to the Anatomy Institution._

 _The performance of King Lear in the evening despite this tragic occurrence went on without any problem. Zetelaki had been delayed a little though, and in the first act he was remarkably tired (sometimes he noticeably relied on the prompter) but then increasingly found himself, and the death of the king was displayed so convincingly that he got standing ovation._

 _After this he was invited to dinner but he didn't go. He said:_

 _\- I had a hard day._

Felix was on the ground laughing way too loud, even his eyes were full of tears.  
\- This... This is just... Gosh my stomach hurts!  
\- I'm glad you like it. So? Was it grotesque enough for you?  
\- I think it was just okay. Did he wrote something even more darker?  
\- Let's see... Well there's an _Execution code_ , and _Instructions, movement restriction related to the Feb 1 event,_ or a _Trill._ Wait! How about _The memoirs of a puddle_? Or _A distraught tulip_?  
\- And what's this? Seems pretty long...

 _ **A voice out could be even considered as a sigh to an unknown purposed iron piece, which in the storms of history quietly lied low in a casket full of lilies, since nor my grandfather, nor my father, nor myself had the guts to throw to the garbage, and nor will have the one after me (this was only the title)**_

 _\- You outlast me, tappet._

\- NOO! My side hurts and I can't stop! It's hilarious!  
\- Yeah I know - giggled Lizzy. - But I guess it was enough, I don't want to hurt you further more.  
\- Just one more, please! I love this.  
\- Okay... But it won't be as funny, it's just... well it's just true.  
\- Bring it on!

 _Unfinished affixation  
_

 _Often I just look in front of me  
Often you just look in front of you  
Often he just looks on front of him_

 _Often we just look in front of us - - -_

Silent fell on the room littered with books. The blonde stopped sat back up and looked with thoughtful eyes to his friend. They kept silent for a moment.  
\- You know... It's true.  
\- See? I told you.  
\- But it's really strange...  
\- Life is strange.  
\- And I like it.  
\- You remember the preface: there's only bad Oneminutes...  
\- Hey! I didn't say that I don't understand it!  
\- I could feel it in the way your hair just moved a moment before. - Elisabeth giggled again.  
\- Oh you little liar! - Felix threw himself on his friend and they started a tickling war.

* * *

A.N: Hello again, and thank you for still reading this it really means a lot.  
So in this chapter we met István Örkény famous Hungarian writer well known for his horribly dark absurd and grotesque humor, but hey! Hungarians are well known for depression and negativism and guess what? it can be hilarious and funny :D  
Still the paragraphs in italic are rough translations by me, hope you found it interesting and enjoyed it just as much as I did, and if by any chance you're Hungarian please let me know what do you think about the success of the translations... And of course if you have any criticism or advise or just a question feel free to write :)  
Have a nice day :) 


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